


Within Reason

by fatal_drum



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blood Kink, Bloodplay, Consensual Kink, Cutting, F/F, Snuggling, sex and blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 08:28:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10081436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatal_drum/pseuds/fatal_drum
Summary: Margot finds herself fascinated by the sight of Alana's blood. Alana just wants to take care of her.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inter_spem_et_metum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inter_spem_et_metum/gifts).



> It should go without saying, but this is not a how-to guide; I've glossed over some of the finer points of safety.
> 
> Also, thanks ever so much to my muse and beta inter_spem_et_metum, whose story Of Putrefaction, Saccharine is legendary. She's hard at work on OPS redux. Shower her with hugs and encouragement.

The first time it happened, they were in the stables. Alana followed Margot through the row of stalls, letting the woman's cultured drawl flow over her without noting the words, when a small bay mare caught her eye. Her coat was a rich, gleaming reddish brown that faded to black at her nose and feet. Alana paused, reaching out to stroke the soft muzzle, when a flash of pain stopped her.

She looked down to see blood welling from a gash in her torn white sleeve, soaking the silk dark red. It dripped down onto the wooden ledge of the stall and onto the protruding nail that had cut her. She stared down at it, surprised to see such a deep cut from a small nail.

Margot stopped talking with a choked sound, drawing Alana's attention. Her face had gone white, and her lips moved soundlessly. Alana clamped a hand over the wound, smearing more blood onto her shirt, feeling it drip between her fingers. Margot's green eyes seemed to burn against her pale face as she swallowed.

“I should—there's a first aid kit.” she stammered. “I'll get it for you.”

Alana pressed harder against the wound as she waited for Margot to bring the kit, gesturing to a deep sink equipped with soap and betadine. Margot was gone before she could thank her.

Later, over dinner, Margot's eyes kept drifting to her sleeve as if she could see through the layers of silk and gauze bandaging.

 

* * *

 

Sex with Margot was like nothing Alana had experienced. Her lips dragged over Alana's skin, lapping up every drop of sweat, sucking deep bruises into her chest and thighs. The slight pain was oddly comforting. Hannibal had been a very careful lover, keeping his claws sheathed, his teeth safe behind soft lips. If his hands had lingered occasionally over her neck, it seemed the suggestion of power was enough for him. Margot held nothing back, and her kisses were sharp and cinnamon-sweet.

Margot's honesty freed something in Alana, and she found herself twining shamelessly with her for hours, skin rubbing against skin, constantly hungry for her touch. It should have scared her. It didn't. More than a few parts of her had died when she hit the ground outside Hannibal's house, and fear seemed to be one of them.

After that afternoon in the stables, Margot lavished attention on every inch of her body, branding it with her mouth and hands. She touched the back of her knees, the hollow of her spine, the tender skin under her breasts, and everything in between. Her lips paused on Alana's wrist, however, and she stared at the white bandage on her arm.

Finally she reached to kiss the crook of Alana's elbow, making her shiver, and Alana forgot everything but the need to push Margot back against the pillows and return touch for aching touch.

 

* * *

 

 The answer came to her one day in the kitchen. Margot, raised with servants, knew little about the practicalities of knives and cutting boards, pots and pans, and she had been surprisingly enthusiastic when Alana offered to show her.

Between them lay a pile of pearly white shallots, orange and gold bell peppers, and dark beets. Margot watched raptly as Alana showed her how to slice the vegetables, how to hold the knife and make each cut both elegant and efficient. Billie Holliday echoed from the Vergers' absurdly expensive sound system, and the sharp scent of garlic filled the air. Margot's smile was sweeter than the wine they sipped as pasta boiled on the stove.

Alana was wondering if she was in too deep when she felt the sting of the knife slipping against her finger.

Margot's eyes went immediately to her hand, stricken, and Alana looked down to see dark blood welling from her finger, dripping over the pile of neatly sliced peppers and soaking into the cracks of the wooden cutting board. She stared, fascinated by the contrast, until a flicker of motion caught her eye—Margot fleeing, again.

“Stop.” Alana ordered, and Margot paused with her eyes still fixed on Alana's hand. She swallowed and licked her lips, which were growing redder. A slight shiver passed over her, too subtle to be noticed if Alana hadn't been watching her just as closely.

Alana felt a calm certainty pass over her as she lifted her finger to her lips and sucked. A low whimper came from Margot's throat, and her eyes squeezed shut.

“You like this, don't you?”Alana asked, stepping closer. Margot licked her lips again, silent. “Do you like seeing me in pain?”

Margot shook her head hard. “No. I'm not into pain.”

Blood leaked over Alana's finger, fat red droplets hitting the white tiled floor. Margot's eyes followed each one as it hit, pupils blown wide.

“I'm sorry.” Margot choked out. “I know it's not—”

“What do you have to be sorry for?” Alana asked. “You didn't cut me. You didn't even ask to cut me.”

Margot's hands clenched tightly at her sides. Alana took one with her uninjured hand, smoothing the fingers flat between her own.

“Would you like to?”

Margot's hand clapped over her own mouth, and she pulled away, looking horrified. Alana watched her calmly, still bleeding onto the tile.

“I'd let you, you know.” she said, surprising herself.

Margot's other hand came up to cross her own body, holding herself tight as she took shaky breaths behind her hand. Alana wrapped her in a careful embrace, holding her injured hand well away from them.

“You can't frighten me.” Alana told her. “You can have this, or it can just stay a fantasy in your head. We don't have to—”

“I want it.” Margot whispered against her neck. She shivered in Alana's arms.

“Then you'll have it.” Alana said, wheels turning in her head as she kissed Margot's soft, curling hair.

 

* * *

 

Margot didn't bring it up again, not even as the days stretched into weeks. From time to time Alana would leave articles around the house, things _Negotiating Consent_ and _Bloodborne Pathogen Safety: A Guide._ Margot read each one over and over, highlighting and underlining the parts that speak to her, the parts she wants Alana to know she read.

She found herself staring on at the fine blue veins of Alana's wrists, the plush red curves of her lips, and thinking she might burst—from waiting or from _actually doing it_ , she wasn't sure.

“What would you use?” Alana asked her one day over espresso and biscotti. Margot wasn't sure what she meant until her eyes drifted to the scar on her finger.

Margot stiffened, looking around the cafe to see if anyone heard, as if they would know what they were talking about. She relaxed when she realized the tables around them were empty, the only other patrons a middle-aged couple poring over a crossword and a few students huddled over laptops twenty feet away, ears plugged with headphones.

“A scalpel.” Margot said quietly. “Easier to sterilize. I don't want anything getting infected.”

“It also allows for very fine control.” Alana noted. “Have you been practicing?”

Margot nodded tightly.

Alana leaned back, licking the last traces of espresso from her lips. “I have scalpels.” she said. “And other things.”

Margot's hand trembled as she lifted the small cup to her mouth.

“Are you busy tonight?” Alana asked with a cruelly innocent smile.

 

* * *

 

 

“One last thing.” Alana said as Margot settled onto the bed. She plucked a folded sheet of paper from her purse.

Margot's hands clenched, crinkling the paper when she realized what it was. Test results: HIV, hepatitis, and other things she'd never heard of, all negative.

“You've thought of everything.” Margot said, staring as the numbers blurred in front of her. “Why are you—no one is this selfless.”

“I like the way you look at me.” Alana reached to tilt Margot's chin up so their eyes met. “Like you can't get enough.”

“I can't.”

“Then I'll give you everything I have.”

Alana leaned down to kiss her, and Margot's eyes slid shut, her arms wrapping around Alana's waist. Alana sank down to straddle her lap, a reassuring weight on her thighs. Her hands slid down to frame Alana's hips.

“Have you done this before?” Alana asked, pushing her to lie down against the white cotton duvet.

Margot shook her head, nuzzling the curve of Alana's neck. She pressed her lips against her to feel the pulse under the skin. She'd never talked about it before, had never wanted to see the look on her lovers' faces when they realized what she was.

But Alana never did that. She hadn't flinched when she told her about Mason, and she wasn't flinching now.

She stripped Alana piece by piece, peeling off the black satin waistcoat, the starched blouse, the tailored cream trousers that always made her want to rub her hands over the curve of her ass. Underneath she was bare, pale skin gleaming in the lamp light.

The sight still made her mouth go dry, each smooth curve, each freckle, each scar—and there were many of those. Margot had never asked, but she had read the newspaper reports.

Margot had her own scars. Alana hadn't forced the story out of her. They would talk about it, or they wouldn't. Margot already had the most important thing, and that was Alana herself.

She wondered when she had gotten so sentimental as Alana began unbuttoning her dress, following each opened button with a kiss to her exposed skin. Her chest ached with the sweetness of it, with a longing to have more and more until it wouldn't fit inside her, until she was bursting with this crazy feeling Alana created. She kissed Alana again, eyes sliding shut.

Alana's hands were warm as she cupped her breasts. Margot's own fingers had gone cold, she realized, clenching them.

“I have everything we need in the night stand. Do you want me to get it?”

Margot nodded, and Alana kissed her cheek before getting to her feet. She laid the items on the bed one at a time: sterile scalpel handles, blades, surgical gloves, disinfectant, and a first aid kit. Alana walked her through the process of opening the packages so the contents stayed sterile, of preparing her skin for the blade.

She took a deep breath, looking down at the woman beneath her: dark hair curling over the pillow, red lips parted in a smile that was equal parts challenging and reassuring.

“What if you want me to stop?” Margot asked.

“Then I'll say 'stop.' Trust me, I won't make you guess.”

Alana hissed as the cold alcohol dripped onto her skin. Margot prepped both of her thighs, watching the goosebumps break out as she shivered. Alana parted her legs to give her access, and Margot bit her lip at the gleam of wetness she revealed.

“I want to cut you here, and here.” Margot traced lines in the air over each thigh. “We can stop any time you want.”

“That goes for both of us.” Alana said. Margot had no choice but to lean down and kiss her again, careful not to brush against her clean thighs.

Finally she pulled on the gloves, sheathing her fingers in cool latex, folding the cuffs down over her wrists. Then she picked up the scalpel, turning it over in her hands.

Alana bit her lip as Margot ran the flat of the blade over her skin.

“You'd let me do anything, wouldn't you?” she asked, pressing down to see the flesh dimple under the cold steel.

“Within reason.” she said, shivering.

“This isn't reasonable.” Margot pressed harder against her skin.

“Love isn't reasonable.”

Margot almost dropped the blade. It was the first time they'd used that word, and Alana gazed up at her steadily, as if daring her to deny it.

She stroked Alana's skin through the gloves, pulling it taut. “No.” she said. “It isn't.”

The first cut made Alana gasp and arch her back, but she didn't pull away. Blood welled from the broken skin, shockingly red. It dripped onto the crisp white sheets, smearing under her gloves as she stroked the wound. This was _her_ blood, she thought dizzily. Alana had given it to her. She wanted Margot to have it. She wanted her to have _everything_.

Alana was silent when the scalpel crossed her skin a second time. The blood dripped down between her thighs, making Margot's mouth water.

“Can I—?”

Alana grabbed her shoulders and pushed her down, and Margot nearly slipped, catching herself on her hands. They left red stains on the sheets, and she clenched her fingers tight as she licked each coppery drop from Alana's skin. She sucked the edges of each wound lightly, running her tongue down each one. Her heart raced at the thought of how many taboos they were breaking, at how Alana _wasn't telling her to stop._

“Are you alright?” she asked, panting.

“Yes.” Alana murmured.

Margot kissed her way up Alana's thigh until she gasped, licking a line up her labia before flicking against her clit. Alana groaned and shoved her hips up. Margot pushed them back down, smearing more blood against her pale skin.

She loved the way Alana tasted, her mouth, her cunt, her sweat, her blood. Each one was different, and uniquely hers in a way she couldn't quantify. She sucked gently, wishing she could stay there forever with no other worries than how to make Alana gasp and clench her hands in Margot's hair.

“Your mouth should be illegal.” Alana murmured, tucking a lock of hair behind Margot's ear. “It probably is.”

Margot smiled and plunged her tongue into Alana, making her stop talking to grind against Margot's face, smearing her in wetness. Margot lapped each drop gratefully, squeezing Alana's hips with her hands.

Finally Alana cried out, body clenching tightly as Margot licked her one last time. She shivered when Margot dropped a gentle kiss against her clit.

Alana made an incoherent noise, pulling at Margot's shoulders until she shimmied up the bed to wrap her in her arms. The sound she made was more contented as she wriggled into Margot's embrace.

“Did I break you?” Margot asked. Alana shook her head and nuzzled against Margot's neck. She felt something soften in her chest. “Good.”

And it _was_ good: Alana's blood drying on their skin, her warm body in Margot's arm, and that unreasonable word _,_ the one she hadn't allowed herself to think about yet. The knowledge of it fluttered behind her ribcage. Someday they would talk about it, really talk about it. But for now all she needed was this.

“We need to get you cleaned up.”

“Mmm.”

She prodded Alana in the ribs. “That involves getting out of bed.”

“Mmm.”

She half-pulled, half-carried Alana to the shower, washing each cut carefully. They bled a little more as she cleaned them, fine trails of blood swirling down the drain with the soap and water.

When Alana sank to her knees under the warm spray, Margot had to shut her eyes against the feeling throbbing in her chest.

Afterwards, she carefully dried and bandaged the cuts, pressing a kiss to each when she was done. Then she patted Alana's skin dry with a towel, wrapping her in a red silk bathrobe. Part of her wanted to run her hands between silk and skin, but Alana's eyes were growing hazy with sleep. Margot changed the sheets quickly, barely finishing before Alana plopped down onto the bed. Margot draped her in a fresh blanket, then crawled in beside her. Her skin was incredibly warm against the cool sheets.

“How are you feeling?” Margot asked quietly.

“Do you really need to ask?”

Margot nodded, and Alana reached out to pull her tight against her chest, head pillowed on her shoulder.

“Good.” Alana said. “I feel very good. Unreasonably so.”

Margot swallowed and said nothing, just wallowed in the rise and fall of Alana's chest under her cheek.

 


End file.
